To Call Me In
by Brightness Wordweaver
Summary: After the Jellicle Choice, Victoria is without a place to go. Mistoffelees makes her an offer. Set in the movie-verse; may have further chapters as connected one-shots if reception warrants.


A/N: I don't own Cats, either the play or the film. I also don't own cats in general (but it's a matter of time). Fair warning, I was enchanted by the movie, and thought it had more plot upon which to hang fanfic (such as this). Don't like, don't read.

...

For a few, awful moments that night, Victoria nearly believed that she might never see another sunrise again. So she's understandably caught up in enjoying this one, in watching Grizabella drift into the clouds, and doesn't really notice the rest of the Jellicle cats slipping away, disappearing into alleys and behind shadows. By the time Old Deuteronomy bids her farewell and departs with Munkustrap, everyone else has gone, and Victoria finds herself alone once again.

Her first reaction is panic and fear, and she wonders where Mistofelees is. Where are any of them? Bustopher Jones may inhabit St. James' Street, but who knows where that is. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer are the only others who mentioned a semi-permanent address, but she's not going to seek them out if she can help it. Is she even allowed to? There is still so much she doesn't know about the customs of the Jellicles, outside of this one night.

Then she spots Mistofelees creeping out from behind a lamppost, hat in paw, looking this way and that before he sees her and smiles nervously. His magic might have strengthened under the tribe's affirmations, but the tuxedo tom is still rather shy.

"Victoria?" he says, approaching. "Do you-do you know what you're going to do now?"

"Not really," she admits, shaking her head. She makes her way down from the lion statue, ending up on the pavement by him. "I was going to ask-anyone, really-if there was a place I could go, but they've all just sort of scattered."

"Yes, they do that," Mistofelees says, not unkindly. "The Jellicles-they, well, we are a tribe, but we don't tend to stick around in large groups after the Jellicle Choice is made. There's no real reason; it just sort of happens that way."

"Of course. 'Jellicle cats meet once a year' and all that." Victoria finds herself unable to quite meet Mistofelees' eyes, yet wanting to look nowhere else. During the dancing, everything had seemed so simple and clear, but in the light of day all of that seemed to vanish. "And of course everyone's got their own lives to get back to-Skimbleshanks with the railway and Jennyanydots with the cockroaches and such. It's just, I'd hoped one of them might have helped me find a place, somewhere to go. I meant to ask Old Deuteronomy, but I forgot."

"That's all right. She makes you forget things, when she's talking to you," Mistofelees reassures. "And actually, I was waiting about for you, because I wanted to ask, in case you didn't have anywhere to go, would you, um," his voice goes a bit small, "want to perhaps come home with me?"

Victoria blinks at him, surprised. "You mean, in the song, when you mentioned a family and a garden-you've got those? Like Jennyanydots?"

"Yes. They're quite nice, too-the family is. For humans. Mostly they let me go about my own business. And there aren't any dogs, or anything like that."

This all seems very well, but Victoria knows enough of humans to pick up on a slight problem. "Won't they notice if another cat turns up in their house? And be angry, or annoyed?"

"They shouldn't. I can magic them to not notice you. Or to think you've always lived there. Whichever you would like." Mistofelees is turning his hat round and round in his paws. "But no matter what, I can make sure you're taken care of, that you have enough to eat and somewhere to be safe."

Victoria reaches out, takes his paw. The hat goes still. "It sounds wonderful," she says sincerely. "I'd love to come home with you."

Mistofelees meets her eyes, and she smiles at him, and receives in return the greatest smile she's ever seen a cat wear, one that lights up his whole face. "Come on then!" he cries, and then he's leading her through the streets and alleys, running like they did when he first pulled her away from Macavity and into the Jellicle tribe. By the time they stop, the sun has risen a good deal higher, and cars and humans are beginning to move about. The two cats are careful to stay well out of sight, keeping to the shadows.

At last, they come to a halt in an alley behind a row of houses, in a far cleaner and better-kept neighborhood than the one Victoria had spent the past night in. After giving her a moment to catch her breath, Mistofelees led her through a gap between two fence boards and into a small, green garden. The house attached to said garden is of moderate size, and mostly brick, but has a comfortable look to it.

There's a cat flap in the back door, which leads to a kitchen. Victoria sniffs the air instinctively, and realizes with a start that she's _hungry_-the last time she saw food was while meeting Bustopher Jones, and she didn't get much then, and it's been a long several hours since. But she doesn't want to take food from here without being established in some fashion-Mistofelees is being so kind to her, and she doesn't want to make trouble.

He seems to sense somehow that she's a little overwhelmed, because he turns to her and smiles comfortingly. "Just a little bit longer, and then you can find a spot to rest and wash up, and I'll bring you some food," he says. "I just need the family to get a look at you, so I can magic them right off. What do you think? Are you invisible, or have you always lived here?"

Victoria thinks about this, about the car and the pillowcase and the cold wet pavement, about being wanted. "Whichever one will be easier," she says finally. "But I'd like it if they knew I was here, and liked me."

"Always lived here, then. It's all right, they don't bite, or bark." Mistofelees takes her paw and leads her further into the house.

...

The family is nice, just as Mistofelees said. At least, they stoop down to pet her when she goes by, and speak about her in sweet voices, and don't seem inclined to swat her or kick her about. Everything would seem to good to be true, except that they seem to be under the impression that she's Mistofelees' sister.

She asks him about this later, thinking maybe he worked that into the magic he did, and maybe was trying to tell her something. She's never had a brother, but even so she's...fairly sure he doesn't see her that way. Then again, she's never had a- Anyway. She needs to know for sure.

"Oh! No, that was-unintentional," Mistofelees says. "I think it's a human thing, to pretend that their cats and dogs are littermates even when it's clearly impossible."

Victoria isn't sure whether to laugh or be alarmed at the notion of being littermates with a dog. She's spared the decision, however, by Mistofelees producing a bit of chicken from his hat, reminding her that she's hungry. She has just enough manners to ask, as she takes it, "Don't you want any?"

"No, I got some when I was about in the kitchen," he says. "Go on, it's all for you." He smiles slightly. "Not all Jellicle cats are as possessive about food as Bustopher Jones."

She does laugh, then.

...

"Do any of the other Jellicle cats stick together, for the rest of the year after the Ball?" Victoria asks, chicken gone and a good portion of the day napped away in a sunny corner. Mistofelees has shown her how to reach the warmest part of the roof under the midafternoon sun, and they're sitting, watching their corner of London go by.

"A few. Munkustrap spends most of the year with Old Deuteronomy, looking after her, you know. She's not as young as she was. But for a week or so before the Ball, she goes off on her own, nobody knows where. I think Jennyanydots and Bustopher see each other from time to time."

Victoria tried to imagine the sleek orange tabby and the rotund alley cat together for any reason at all. "She didn't seem to like him very much, during the competition," she points out.

Mistofelees shrugs. "The cats hoping to go to the Heaviside Layer get strange sometimes," he says simply. "But the short answer is, most of us don't see each other often, except for our siblings...or our mates," he adds in a quieter tone.

Victoria still hears it, and makes up her mind not to beat about the bush. "Mistofelees," she says carefully, "when you asked me to come here-I mean, after the Ball and the dancing and everything-did you mean to ask me to be your mate?"

He looks up, startled, and if she didn't know better, Victoria would swear he looks afraid. "Would you want to?" he says, and all his singular magical powers are doing nothing to disguise the hope in his voice. "You needn't-I mean, whether or not you do, you can still stay."

Perhaps, Victoria thinks, things that were simple and clear in the moonlight can be clear under the midafternoon sun as well. "Of course I would want to," she says earnestly. "Mistofelees-"

Then his face is brushing hers, scents mingling and growing stronger, and a certain amount of licking is beginning to be involved. (But not overmuch, for a cat is not a dog, and never will be.)

Mistofelees pulls back for a moment to look her in the eyes. "You should know," he begins, "about how Jellicles have three names? Mistofelees, it's the second name, the formal one, so I use it at the Jellicle Ball. But the name the family uses...is Quaxo."

"Quaxo," Victoria repeats, letting the word slide through her mouth. She smiles. "Is that what you want me to call you?"

He nods, and she says his name again, and he smiles like moonlight and draws her up into a rooftop dance.


End file.
